


Ain't no rest for the wicked

by just_beginning



Series: In Unison [5]
Category: Deadpool (Comics), Deadpool (Movieverse), Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man - Fandom
Genre: (nothing explicit), Dating, Deadpool being Deadpool, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Peter Parker/Wade Wilson, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Insomnia, M/M, Memories, Nightmares, Oral Sex, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Protective Peter Parker, Rimming, Slice of Life, Smut, Wade Wilson Has Issues, Wade Wilson Needs A Hug, Wade Wilson has PTSD, too - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-05-28 19:05:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19400464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_beginning/pseuds/just_beginning
Summary: There are numerous reasons why Wade Wilson can’t sleep.  Or, more to the point, why he can’t stay asleep.  He can catnap with the best of them, plop down just about anywhere relatively safe and doze for a bit.  Sustaining sleep-mode for more than a few hours is rarely in his repertoire, however.Sometimes this results in feelings, other times it results in shenanigans.A mini-saga.





	1. Clanging Around

**Author's Note:**

> He’s glaring at Peter, who is curled up on his bed all dead to the world. And, fine, it’s adorable, but Wade is fucking jealous. And bored.

There are numerous reasons why Wade Wilson can’t sleep.Or, more to the point, why he can’t _stay_ asleep.He can catnap with the best of them, plop down just about anywhere relatively safe and doze for a bit.Sustaining sleep-mode for more than a few hours is rarely in his repertoire, however. 

The reason he most likes to focus on is that he simply doesn’t need a lot of sleep anymore.His body is constantly repairing and recouping enough that he’s always just _ready to_ _fucking go already, okay?_ Hours upon hours of sleep no longer seems necessary. 

But that’s not the _only_ reason. 

There’s a fucking variety of nightmares that mess with his sleep, too. 

After all, even before Weapon X he sometimes grew averse to the quiet and dark that sleep brought.He’d go through phases of downright avoiding sleep.He’d leave all the lights on, go out at odd hours, talk - _okay, bully_ \- Weasel into keeping the bar open later than usual.Anything to keep moving, keep going so he couldn’t give-in and sit down to drift to sleep.Even before Francis and all that shit show, there were a lot of creepy crawly things in Wade’s past that liked to make themselves known whenever they pleased. 

Weapon X had just exacerbated this particular problem. 

So he’s glaring at Peter, who is curled up on _his_ bed all dead to the world.And, fine, it’s adorable, but Wade is fucking jealous.And bored. 

Mostly bored. 

Peter has earned the sleep and all.Dude fights crime, so the least he deserves is a night off and some damn shut eye.But it’s not _fair_ to be awake and in need of distraction when his favorite distraction is sleeping. 

Not that he never wakes Peter up for the company.Sometimes to fuck around.Sometimes just to talk.Sometimes to convince him that a slice of pizza from that shitty place that stays open until 4AM is _totally_ _worth_ _it_. 

It’s always a toss-up whether or not Peter appreciates these sleep interventions, as Wade likes to call them.He laughs and goes along sometimes.Other times he grouches and pulls a pillow over his head like an asshole.The best times are when he wakes up long enough to get hot and have the world’s laziest orgasm and then sprawl across Wade and demand a couple more hours of sleep. 

Wade wiggles his toes in the carpet and wonders if he could luck into that tonight...

He doesn’t _feel_ particularly lucky just now, so he opts out of banking on sexy times.No, he needs something more fool proof to ensure Peter will haul ass out of bed and join him. 

‘ _Cuz he knows damn well he can have_ ** _this_** _ass anytime; it doesn’t have to be at midnight.'_

Wade chuckles to himself and shuffles back to his living room, where he fishes one of his laptops form under a couple of empty beer bottles. He _could_ use these uninterrupted hours to clean, but he’s not fucking going to.

Shit nah.

Instead, he’s going to squirrel around the internet and find something he and Pete can investigate.It’s New York fucking City; some weirdo is definitely out there doing weird shit.Virtual guarantee.So long as he can find something immediately actionable, he can have some long days and, most importantly, _nights_ with Peter while they investigate and kick some ass. 

He pauses, wondering if it’s wrong that he’s hoping for some crime syndicate to be up to something.It would totes be easier to just wake Peter up and admit he’s feeling funky and needs some company... 

But that makes something in his chest squirm.Peter doesn’t need to know about raids gone wrong in Yemen or why he hates West Africa or the reasons that night vision still freaks him the fuck out ...you know, _just a little bit_.Or a fucking lot.Whichever you prefer. 

Wade’s stomach does a jumpy little thing and he does glance back towards his room, but only for a moment. He stays the course. 

Find a crime so he can hide his needs neatly inside an act of altruism.That’s the mission. 

_‘That’s an order, sergeant - you know the mission!’_

Wade shakes that out of his head and quickly turns on the TV so there’s more than one device vying for his attention.Hopefully he won’t need more than that.His current position is easy to explain; if he adds a radio to the din it’ll raise a little red flag if Peter wanders out. 

So ‘Cheers’ plays in the background and he admires Ted Danson’s thick head of hair while carefully scrutinizing the local news. 

He’s less than two hours in before he gets up to tug on his leathers, straps on some of his arsenal, and climbs out of the window.He’d set a few Google alerts because he’s 41% sure there might be an arsonist lurking in the Bronx, but he’s on to something else now. 

Something probably less dire but definitely more entertaining. 

There had been a few articles dotted here and there mentioning Daredevil, and Wade has decided he’s going to meet him.Peter has met him and fought with him.The Punisher has clashed hard with him but also definitely teamed-up with him at least once.Domino claims to know him.Even Hawkeye, who fucking comes and goes from the city to slink around the shadows, apparently knows him. 

It’s Deadpool’s turn. 

The dude is something of a ghost, but Wade’s tracked cartel members, okay?If he can’t smoke out some dingus with little horns then maybe he needs to hang up his katanas.He’ll start by clanging around Hell’s Kitchen. If that doesn’t draw out the target, he’ll conduct a more methodical search. Time consuming for one person, but definitely doable. 

* * *

It’s fucking _not_ doable, and Wade isn’t sure how to feel about it.

He’s not pouting, per say, but he’s pissed.Also determined. 

He’s going to have a lot of research to do...

By the time he’s trudging back to his room again, Peter is already awake but he’s still sprawled in bed and scrolling through his phone. The blankets are shoved low so his torso is exposed, which Wade stops in the doorway to appreciate in a not-so-subtle way. 

“Where were you?” Peter raises a surprised eyebrow to see him in his full Deadpool regalia. “A job?”

“...in a manner of speaking.” 

Peter tilts his head curiously at this evasive answer, but Wade just shrugs.He’s not lying ...not _really._ He is pretty sure that this quest for the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen is going to become a mild obsession, and he isn’t sorry for it. He could use a new hobby. A distraction.A nighttime distraction, specifically. 

He’ll call it a self-appointed job. There. _It’s a job_.

“I didn’t know you’d taken one...” 

Peter’s scratching at his thin happy trail, and that is a pleasing diversion. Worth putting the Devil on the back burner for... 

“Uh-huh,” Wade starts ditching belts and straps.

“Need any help with it?”Peter likes to offer because he’s a kind little bug that way. 

And Wade knows he _could_ always just ask Peter for more details about how he’s successfully found Daredevil in the past, but fuck that noise.It’s the principle of the thing, now. He’s diving deep. 

“Nah, not this time around, baby boy,” Wade tugs, wriggles, and wrangles his suit off. 

It’s not a specifically sexy routine, but Peter’s at least seen it enough that he can be lightly amused rather than worried Wade’s going to totter over.He just tips his face back down to continue reading on his phone. 

“On a completely different note,” Wade grabs for Peter’s attention again once he’s successfully stripped and is crawling up Peter’s legs. “Is your Spidey suit fire proof?” 

For that, Peter drops the phone onto his chest. 

“Why?” 

“Always the fuckin’ tone of suspicion,” Wade frowns and sits up to plant his annoyed weight on Peter’s waist. 

“Well,” Pete grunts and shifts slightly to accommodate. “It’s not a very innocent question....

“I think we've got a little pyro running around out there...” 

“Really?” Peter’s shoulders perk up a bit. 

Damn it.Wade totally could have gotten Peter out of bed with that one; he should have saved it for later.

“Yeah, some freaky little fire-bug ...I’ve got feelers out, so I’m on it,” he promises while he traces the thin line of hair near Peter’s navel himself. 

“...so it _is_ part of your job?” Peter’s getting conflicting information by being informed of something nefarious but also being told his help isn’t warranted. 

Wade’s mostly just annoyed that his soft touches aren’t as distracting as he wants them to be. 

“No.I can multi-task ....it’s part of my charm...”

Wade shifts his weight and finally gets a hitch in Peter’s breath.Funny, he’d been starting to think maybe the man under him didn’t like morning sex anymore.

“Oh yeah?” Peter drops his hands lightly to Wade’s knees and dances up his thighs to his hips, where he can slowly trace the band of Wade’s fitted briefs.

“Mmhmm...” 

“Such as?”Peter can play at innocent and naive all he wants, but the fingers that have snuck straight past the hem of Wade’s underwear prove he knows just what he is doing.

“...well,I can think about my job, and a pyro tweeker, and ride a cock all at once.I’m amazing,” Wade tightens his knees to either side of Peter. 

“So you’re saying I can’t keep your attention?” Peter’s dipping a confident finger into the cleft of Wade’s ass anyway.“Like maybe I should stop?” 

“Hell no,” Wade swiftly presses backwards. 

He’s rewarded with a soft, slow smile from under him. Peter still looks a little bit sleepy, but Wade would happily do all the work if necessary. He doesn’t give a fuck _._ It’s Petey and it’s him, and in a way he’s been waiting all night for this. 

He pushes Peter’s phone away, off of his chest, and the other man doesn’t stop him or catch it. 

_Eureka._


	2. Maybe Probably

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He has a lot of mixed feelings that he will definitely probably sort out later.

Wade’s mouth tastes like fucking sand, and it’s not okay. 

He’d rolled out of bed gagging on it and cursed himself for even sinking deep into sleep at all. Only after taking a few, stumbling steps had he remembered he’d stayed at Peter’s apartment rather than his own. 

Peter’s apartment is a studio, which is totes hip and all, but it’s open and he doesn’t have much room to retreat. He’s going to need to be quiet, which isn’t exactly his favorite... 

Though he could always leave.

_‘No.’_

“C’mon...” his voice is nothing but a breath and he shuffles over to the kitchen in his socks and boxers. 

Peter thinks he’s a monster for sleeping in socks, but _he’s_ not the one with cold toes in winter, is he? Fuck no; he’s cozy as shit. 

Wade pulls open the microwave to get some warm light for himself and then his eyes fly around the room.For good measure he clicks the stove light on, too, and then he starts counting splatter marks on the backsplash there. 

Not only does his racing heart begin to slow, but this act teaches him that Peter’s been neglecting some cleaning habits.If Wade’s feeling generous later he’ll scrub it himself. 

But also, maybe not. 

Probably not. 

Wade starts to feel better the longer he’s awake and focusing on _any other fucking thing_ besides dreams of the desert.He still feels a little tetchy because he’s trying a too hard, but it’s alright. It’s better, at least. 

An indeterminate amount of time later, he’s still out there in the kitchen when he hears the softest shift, a slither of a blanket.If Peter thinks he’s sneaking up on Wade he’s wrong, but Wade doesn’t react.He continues to prop a hip on the counter, arms crossed humming ‘ _Whatta Man'_ for the fourth or fifth time. 

“Wade? ...s’matter, you hungry?” Peter’s words are slurred from sleep and his voice is a little gruffer than usual, which makes Wade grin.

“Nah,” he answers before realizing he should probably have said _yes_. 

“Then whattcha doin’?” 

Thinking?

Spazzing?No, not true; he’s calming down. 

He thinks of choppers skimming in to drown-out the sound of screaming, and something in his stomach rolls over.He doesn’t react to that, just shakes his head. 

“Nothing.”

“... ...your side of the bed’s cold.”

_Fuck_ , Pete.Just gotta call a guy out? 

He doesn’t say so.Wade just blinks at Peter from the corner of the kitchen near the oven.The other man is lingering several feet away on the short carpet, probably hesitant to step onto the linoleum with his bare ass feet. Wade is glad for it; he’s pressing into the edge of the counter at his back like he can melt into it. 

He does want to be close to Peter; he nearly _always_ wants to be close to Peter.However, he also wants to disappear. He doesn’t want to lie, but nor is he willing to tell the truth. 

Peter should have stayed in bed. 

Or Wade should have left.Lingering out here had been a compromise between hiding and staying in the comfort of Peter’s orbit, but now Peter’s staring at him and he’s growing more alert by the second.

Sure enough, the other man starts to approach.Wade drops his gaze, watching Peter’s toes flare slightly in discomfort when they hit the chilled floor.He finds that satisfying in a very distant way, but mostly he’s just tired. 

Just not tired in the way that he’s going to let Peter pull him back to bed. 

“I’m good,” he bats away the hand that reaches for him. 

To cuddle up? To tug him away?  He’s not sure which, only that he doesn’t want it.

Well, ya know, _he does_.But he doesn’t. 

“Then what’re you doing?” Peter doesn’t look upset, only his own kind of tired. 

“Nothing.I’m just done sleeping...”

There.That should be no surprise. 

“...you’re acting weird...” 

“I’ll just head out, then,” his call is abrupt but also, he decides, the right one. 

He levies his hip off of the counter, pecks a stilted kiss onto Peter’s forehead, and brushes by smoothly. 

“What?” Peter catches up a few seconds too late and turns on his heel to follow Wade. 

“Yeah, you need more sleep, Pete,” the taller man’s already fishing his jeans up off the floor at the end of the bed and looking for his thermal. 

“Says who?No I don’t...” 

Of course Peter decides this now on a night Wade is _not_ clambering for company.Fucking figures, man. 

“Class tomorrow, Pete.” 

There’s no need to actually remind Peter of this, of course.To Wade’s knowledge Peter has never missed a class.Still, it is worth making sure that Pete knows _he_ knows he’s bullshitting.Peter loves him some sleep, alright?So get real, baby boy.

“I’m awake.I’m not going back to sleep...” 

“More lies,” Wade is bland with the fact. 

It’s annoying, but Pete can fall asleep at the drop of a hat.He is one of those freaks who could zonk-out as soon as his ole Spidey head touches a pillow.Maybe that’s just how it goes when you use skyscrapers as your own personal jungle gym.Gotta recoup and shit. 

Whatever. 

“Wade..”

“I’ve got shit to do,” Wade dodges around the other man again to go fetch his coat from the arm of the couch. 

And _this_ is not lies.His new favorite hobby could use some attention.He’s sure the Daredevil has made the news recently.More info to add to his research. 

Extra data. 

More variables. 

Christ, now he’s sounding like Pete...

“Can I come?” Peter obviously knows something’s up.

“No”

He hates the way he says that, final and cold.Like he’s some authoritarian rather than Peter’s lover. _Yeesh_...is lover the right title?Partner?He’s still looking for the word that fits best onto his tongue.In his head ...or elsewhere. 

And whatever it is, Peter hears it, too, because he stops pressing.Stops asking.Just watches him shrug his coat on and leave.Wade waits, contemplates going back in, and hears Peter lock the door safely behind him. 

Yup.Time to go. 

It’s cold outside, but Wade doesn’t give a stanky shit.He take the long way home, curling his way through Hell’s Kitchen to kick-up a goddamn fuss.Because Little Lucifer clearly hasn’t gone and retired _\- he’s still showing up in hella articles and the streets buzz about him_ \- but Wade can’t pinpoint him.It sucks more than a little. 

He hadn’t originally had much in the way of plans upon finding Daredevil other than just meet him and probably heckle him a little (i.e: a lot).But now he wants to interrogate his ass.Maybe even fight him a little for being so frustrating.Or possibly ...congratulate him?Give him a crisp high-five?He has a lot of mixed feelings that he will definitely probably sort out later. 

When he gets back to his own apartment he turns the radio up loud while he blares a true crime podcast and riffles through a ratty folder full of pictures, notes, maps, and a few doodles that are there because he can’t help himself.Sometimes you just get a creative itch, ya dig?

Anyway, it’s loud and chaotic and just the kind of work environment he needs at the moment. 

* * *

  
At 7:00am, when he’s frying bacon on top of bacon on top of bacon, the music cuts-off abruptly. Instinctively, Wade grabs a dirty plate from the sink beside him and whips it across the room like perfect frisbee - _he needs to join an Ultimate Frisbee league ASAP._ Just as the ceramic is shifting to his fingertips, he knows he doesn’t need to let it go. He probably has time to stop it. 

He also knows Peter will be fine, so he lets it slip away anyhow. 

Indeed, Peter sets aside one of his coffees, leans back, and snatches the plate from the air between his fingers.He glances at it and then to Wade, then he tucks the plate calmly under his arm so he can pick the cardboard coffee cup right back up.

He’s holding two.One’s obviously for Wade, and soon he’s approaching to give it over.First Wade’s guilty, then he’s pleased, and then he twitches and starts scraping all of the papers around his island into a messy pile.The bacon starts sizzling too hard behind him, the grease going a little mad. 

“Fuck...”

“I’ll get it,” Pete darts forward and deposits the drinks so he can straighten out the stove. 

“Thanks,” Wade very-not-stealthily flips over all the papers and slams a folder on top of them. 

He fumbles with his phone next and turns off the women who are discussing a grizzly crime scene, and then there’s nothing left to do but face Peter awkwardly. 

“Help yourself,” he nods his still-damp mop of hair at the pair of coffees. 

He’s not looking up from the bacon situation, and Wade can’t help but wonder if he’s doing it intentionally.He’s very insecure at time, though, so it’s hard to be sure if he’s just a little paranoid ...that tendency does sometimes rear its head more with lack of sleep. 

Surely Peter hasn’t shown just to give him the cold shoulder. 

“Thanks,” he moves past to take a cup, and he skims his hand over the dip of Peter’s back as he does. 

It’s only a brief move.Again, he wants to pull Peter in and push him away at the same time right now. 

It’s confusing. 

He’s getting used to it.

He settles in the middle by simply standing there and sipping at this gifted coffee.It’s probably a good time to apologize - _for waking Peter, for leaving._

He doesn’t.

After a few more minutes, Wade can’t stand it and reaches past Peter to turn the stove off. 

“We’ve probably got enough, now ....more than enough.Eat up...” 

Peter checks his watch and then snatches a few pieces of bacon with a happy grin.Wade grabs some of his own and absolutely doesn’t miss the other man’s glance towards his island. 

“Job stuff?”

“Mmhmm,” Wade’s glad to chew slowly. 

“...is that what’s eating you?” Peter looks hopeful.

“... ...lotta shit eating me, Pete.You know that...” he rubs at the back of his neck, glances at Peter, and then buries his face into his coffee when he sees the annoyance flitting across Peter’s face. 

He’s angery at himself for being a little pleased with that.Wade wants Peter to want to be there, but he also wants Peter to go the hell away. 

And _fuck_ it’s a shitty and histrionic way to feel, and he hates that it feeds a craving in a petty part of him. 

He knows for sure that Peter would listen to what shit’s been swimming around in his head lately.He’d hear Wade out and talk about it, give him space or a hug or what-the-fuck-ever he thought might elevate this knot in his neck.Only Wade doesn’t _want_ to talk.He doesn’t _want_ to pick at scabs he’s trying to heal and let them bleed on Peter.He would rather chew glass than devote more energy or time towards the things that he hates. 

It’s probably not smart, he knows. 

Maybe not even healthy.

But it won’t kill him; it fucking can’t. So he’ll keep his head down and plow forward.The only way out is through. This shit ebbs and flows; he just has to wait for it to go.It’ll comes eventually; it always does. 

“...are you sure you don’t want help?” 

This fucking guy and his questions. 

Wade clenches his jaw and forcibly stops himself from glancing towards his hastily-stacked papers.He doesn’t want Peter to worry and should probably assure him that this isn’t some hard or dangerous job.But if he tells Peter what he’s really trying to do he’s pretty sure he will need to explain _why_ he needs such a stupid fucking distraction, and that brings him right back to the shit he doesn’t want to talk about. 

“Nah, you’ve got class don’t you?”Wade hadn’t meant to make it sound like he’s kicking Peter out, but he knows that’s exactly how it does sound. “I mean...”

“I could skip?” 

_Well fuck._

Wade considers saying yes and asking him to do so.In his mind’s eye he can see curling up together in his bed to quietly talk. Or otherwise flopping around the couch all day, maybe just playing video games and sharing company like they don’t have shit to worry about. 

“...you don’t have to do that,” he decides instead. 

“Okay,” there’s a sigh in Peter’s voice even though it’s brief. 

He doesn’t look upset about it, maybe just sad. 

Sad because he doesn’t want Wade wallowing on his own, and he still doesn’t know how to take that sometimes. That’s never been Wade’s normal.He survives, he scrapes by, and if he has to do it on its own that’s just more of the same. Never mind that he’s known Peter for quite a while now, the guy is still a fucking surprise to him some times. 

“I’ll see you,” Peter adjusts his backpack and heads for the door. 

“Yeah, alright...” 

Peter give Wade’s ass a soft swat on his way past, which seems to verify he’s not truly mad. Wade finally grins a little bit doesn’t call him back, just lets him leave. 

He casts his kitchen island something of a glare and then stomps across the room to turn the stereo back on.With that helping to drown out his morose thoughts, he can more happily finish his coffee and bacon and then get back to work.


	3. Operation Inferno

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why does Wade even lo- like such a boring person? Christ, don’t a lot of people like to fuck or game instead of reading evidence-based research?

9:00pm  
Wade is far beyond pleased. 

He had wandered over to Pete’s for a visit only for Peter to announce that he’s pulling all all-nighter. 

Fucking _wonderful_. 

Wonderful right up until he shuts the damn door in Wade’s face. 

What had he done, huh?Besides smile.Sure, maybe his hood had been shadowing his face in a semi-sinister way during said smile, but Peter knows better.Peter likes his smile. 

_Fucking allegedly_. 

“The hell, Parker?” he throws the door right back open. 

“No!” Peter points a finger at him. 

Like, what, he’s a naughty puppy? _Rude._

“Whatever you want to do, I can’t,” Peter waves his arms wide. 

Do? He doesn’t want to _do_ anything specifically.He is up for whatever, as per usual; he’d just come over to see if company was available. And it fucking is.All night long. 

“No,” Peter repeats when Wade tells him so. “No, my all-nighter is being devoted to school!” 

_Ah_.

There it is.Makes perfect sense, actually.Peter’s been talking about a paper, and yet he also hasn’t let up on regular patrols in the past few days.Baby boy done gone and procrastinated. 

“Go ahead. Study your little head off,” Wade shrugs and throws himself onto the armchair. 

Now that he’s looking, he sees there are some books on the couch and highlighted sheafs of paper splayed on the coffee table around Pete’s laptop.Whatever, Peter can nerd-out. He doesn’t mind playing video games on silent. 

* * *

  
10:05pm  
“No more!” Peter barks an hour into Wade’s joy.

He dives off the couch straight for Wade, who instinctually thrusts the controller up in the air out of Peter’s immediate reach. 

“Are you having a seizure?” he raises an eyebrow while he palms Peter’s forehead and pushes him back. 

That would be a concerning turn, but also possibly interesting. 

“No I’m not,” Peter stands calmly. “But the game is distracting.”

“Then stop looking” 

“ _My_ TV.” 

“God, your possessive,” Wade complains but drops the controller aside anyway. 

Triumphant, Peter darts across the room to turn off the TV. 

* * *

  
10:40pm  
“What’re you researching, anyway?” Wade looks up from his phone.

He’s been playing a word game for about thirty quiet minutes before realizing he hasn’t asked Peter this.That’s pretty rude rude of him considering how much Peter is into his classes. 

Spider-nerd looks up form an article he’s perusing with a confused look, but that passes and he sets the papers down.

“Carbon fiber composites,” he offers to let Wade decide if he wants to hear more. 

They both know Wade can’t follow every single thing that Peter likes to talk about.They also both know that Wade doesn’t like to automatically be disregarded when it comes to these topics. 

“...have fun with that,” Wade dismisses himself from the conversation. 

It’s kinder to both of them that way. 

* * *

  
11:20pm  
“Don’t you take study breaks?”  Wade asks after plugging his phone in to charge on one of the bedside tables.

“Don’t need one,” Peter glances up only as long as it takes to shake his head, then buries his face in another article. 

Why does Wade even lo- _like_ such a boring person?Christ, don’t a lot of people like to fuck or game instead of reading evidence-based research? 

“...hungry?” 

Peter glances up again to consider. 

“Yes.” 

Good.Something constructive to do. 

* * *

12:09am  
“How about a quickie?”

The nachos and cheese have long since been demolished, and Wade had even cleaned-up the dishes from that.Because he’s a thoughtful boyfriend - _significant other? Hmmm_ \- and a fantastic fucking house guest.

Usually, anyhow. 

Peter squirms at the suggestion but refuses to look up. _Oh_ , he wants a quickie, alright.

“Can’t.” 

* * *

  
12:43am  
“A shower might wake you up,” Wade suggests later when Peter starts making a pot of coffee.

He can tell that Peter’s mulling this over while he adds water to the machine.He bides his time quietly.Too quietly, probably...

“You just want to shower together,” Pete accuses a moment later. 

“Well, fuckin’ _yeah_ ,” Wade blurts a laugh. “Doesn’t mean I’m wrong...”

Peter’s eyes narrow in thought. 

He clicks the pot on. 

“Yeah, alright...”

Wade laughs his triumph and follows a smiling Spidey to the bathroom. There, he can strip and then box Peter in against the shower wall.He attempts to eat Peter out _\- with enthusiasm, may he add -_ but there’s too much water and it’s a little precarious, so he gives it up.Even so, the warm water is good for slipperiness elsewhere, and outercourse is always fucking valid.

The drawback being that Peter doesn’t need the same kind of rest and recoup time if he hasn’t been debauched both inside and out.If Wade’d been granted the time to prep and throughly fuck Peter in there, he’d have gotten plenty of skin-on-skin cuddle time out of it afterwards. 

Well, he’s said quickie, though, hadn’t he? 

Since _he_ doesn’t have a paper to write, Wade flops onto the bed to imagine how they can celebrate the end of this clearly awful research project.He’ll have the time to fuck Peter the way he absolutely deserves to be fucked.He’ll take his time.Peter will be a wreck, he’ll get so damn lost...

Or, ya know, Peter can have his wicked way with Wade instead. He’ll let Peter decide.Six is one, half a dozen is the other to Wade.He’s learned that Peter usually has a preference for topping, but all sex is it’s own original brand of _fuck yeah_ to Wade. 

All the fantasizing gets him stiff again after a while, which is fun, too. 

“Pete, you got time to help take care of this?” he calls attention to the hard on. 

No response. 

He chuckles and decides on another shower rather than sullying Peter’s favorite top blanket for the third time in the same month. 

It’s not his water bill, anyhow. 

* * *

  
1:31am  
“Dude!”

“Um ...are you going full _bro_ on me?” Wade lowers his phone to cock his head at Peter. 

He’s been allowed to curl up on the end of the couch and has been quietly watching #fail videos on youtube for some time, now.Peter’s been quiet save for rustling paper and clicking keys. 

Now, though, his eyes are narrowed and he’s jutting the tip of an orange highlighter at Wade’s foot. 

Oh, right....yes, he’s been inching it slowly, _slowly_ closer to Peter for the past fifteen minutes.It’s not Wade’s fault that he can entertain himself in multiple ways at once. 

“I’ll break your toes”

“Hmmm...which ones?” Wade absolutely doesn’t move his foot yet. 

“Third and forth metatarsals”

“Nerd,” Wade groans but retreats a bit. “And always the bold threats from someone who’s helpfully _reset_ my bones...”

Peter has also broken Wade’s bones in less altruistic ways, they both remember that.That hasn’t happened in a couple years, though. Water under the weirdo bridge. 

“Not far enough,” Peter eyes the red sock dubiously. 

“I don’t know what I’ve done to warrant such suspicion, officer!”

One plea of innocence too far, it seems...

“Off the couch,” Peter orders. 

Laughing, Wade obeys and rolls off of that particular piece of furniture. 

* * *

  
2:34am  
“Wade!” Peter’s sigh is long and suffering.

When the mercenary eventually made his way back to the couch, he’d slid onto the cushions and cradled his head on Peter’s thigh.Much better than a foot, as far as he’s been informed. 

“Yo?” his phone’s charging again so he thinks it might be a good time to actually try to catch a short nap. 

May or may not work, but Peter has slowed in his manic shuffling of papers and seems to be re-reading what he has written.Judging by the time and Peter’s claim this is truly to be an all night affair, Wade is sure there is more work that’s going to be thrown into the paper, but for now Pete’s calm.

A good nap time if ever there is doing to be one. 

“Can you not?” 

“Oh, just don’t mind me”

“Too late; I already mind ... ... _eh_ , you can crash on the bed, though,” he adds, seeming to catch the bitter tone in his first statement. 

“Ugh...” 

There’s a Peter smell in the bed, of course, but it’s not as poignant and definitely not as warm as the real thing.

“Seriously, Wade; I need this time right now...” Peter’s finally laying down some more serious law. 

Perhaps it had been a over-shoot to try to catch a few winks in front of someone who isn’t planning to sleep tonight but would probably love to. 

_‘Poor planning, Wilson.’_

It does sting a bit, but Wade gets it.Kind of.A little.If he tries. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” he grunts and springs up to his feet to stretch, back popping in a satisfying sort of way. 

“Really?” Peter questions when Wade pulls open the small closet to extract his spare leathers. 

“Yeah, it’s a little late but not an awful time for it,” Wade glances over at the microwave clock. “I’ve got sniffing to do...” 

“Sniffing...?” 

“Uh-huh....” 

Wade’s got some balls in the air, too, after all. He’ll pour some time into the streets, and hopefully when he comes back Peter will be a little closer to being done and will therefore be moderately more chill.

"...you're okay, right?" Peter's watching him with his Petey eyes, his work clearly pushed to the back of his mind for a moment.

He can say 'no' and Peter will probably come out with him. But clunking around the apartment here has actually been kind of nice, even if he's been acting a half-nuisance.

"Sure. Just need to go burn off some energy, baby boy..." 

Peter nods slowly, and once Wade flashes him a smile he looks back at at his computer. 

Wade trudges off to go change and strap-up, for Peter begrudgingly lets him stash a couple guns in the apartment. For peace of mind, Wade claims.Also to plug anyone who tries to threaten them there, but whatever; he doesn’t actually have to say that aloud.He’s confident Peter knows it.

Maybe.

* * *

  
6:13am

Wade’s gone longer than he anticipates, but he returns to Peter’s apartment anyway because the student had seemed serious about being up _all night_. He’s not exactly subtle about storming up the fire escape even though it’s late enough into the morning that it’s getting light, and he’s not quiet about throwing the window open either.

“Mutant!” he barks happily after his ungainly arrival. 

The place still smells faintly of coffee, or it does until Wade’s been there a few seconds. 

“Huh?” Peter jerks round. “ _What happened_!?” he’s on his feet in the next second. 

“Found the arsonist, Petey!” Wade punches a fist into his palm. “Some fucking Johnny-Storm-wannabe.Gave me a run for my money for a few blocks, too, but fuck that guy,” he flexes just a bit for show, too. 

Overreaction? _Maybe_. 

But it had turned out to be an exhilarating morning. Not to mention satisfying to finally track someone from start to finish and get that shit _done_. A negative way to think about it is: he's lost a distraction. A better way to look at it is: one mission down, only one fucking more to go. 

_ Fuck yeah.  _

He sobers himself up marginally at the way Peter’s eyes are roving over his singed suit, particularly the areas that had burned straight through. 

“I’m fine,” he realizes he probably should have lead with that.“Just had to stop, drop, and roll a couple times...”

“...you asked me if my suit was fireproof,” Peter recalls, “and yours isn’t?” 

“Hi! I’m Deadpool,” Wade reaches out a hand to shake and is summarily ignored. 

Peter brushes by the extended hand and traces over the bare skin of his upper arm, then the swath exposed across his chest. 

“Petey, I’m good,” hegently pulls Peter’s hand away by the wrist. “I had a _good_ fucking night, I promise...” 

The other man clicks his tongue. 

“...I should've been there..." 

"Careful, your _complex_ is showing..." Wade warns him, half joking. 

"Well...you could have called...” 

“Nah, baby boy has nerd work to do...”

“I’m serious!” 

“Me, too,” Wade tugs his mask off to prove it.“I’m kind of glad you weren’t there, actually ...I probably would’ve been pretty fucked if smoke inhalation could do me in.”

Peter doesn’t look pleased and folds his arms over his chest to prove the point. His mouth does twitch after a few quiet seconds, though. 

“I would have helped,” he maintains. 

“I know,” Wade can see the annoyance draining away from Peter and cheers right back up himself. “And the police probably would’ve been way happier to see _you_ waiting for them than _me_!Let me tell you...”

“You called the cops?” both of Peter’s eyebrows pop up. 

“Course.The fuck do I want with a pyromaniac?” Wade snorts.“I’m perfectly capable of starting a fire for s’mores myself, thanks.#1 Canadian here.” 

Peter grins and it finally reaches his eyes again. _Perfect_. 

“Well, you smell like smoke, so you're gonna need another shower.And you have to tell me everything....” he's smirking, now.

Wade rather hopes that means Peter's going to hop into the shower with him again.Instead, he sits on the bathroom counter and demands a play-by-play of the blazing tale, which Wade is now happily calling _Operation Inferno_ , while he scrubs soot and smoke from his skin. 

The absolute best part was that he felt kindda tired after all of this. 

Or, _or_ maybe the best part is when he flops onto Peter’s bed, the beautiful man announces he’s basically _mostly_ ready to submit his paper.He just wants to edit some things and this, he decides, he can do while sitting in bed.He doesn’t actually get under the covers with Wade, just perches atop them to _tap tap tap_ quietly, but it’s fucking close enough.

Hells yeah.


	4. Mutual Insomnia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fuck,” Wade sighs deep and slow. “...sorry I took off...”  
> Of all the fucking nights, right? Right?  
> “S’fine. You got to break a dude’s nose,” Peter guesses that this is far more important. “I’m fine...”

* * *

“Hey, Pete ...did you ever know that ‘strap on’ spelled backwards is ‘no parts’?”

Peter blinks and looks up from enabling the alarms on his phone.He cocks his head a bit like he’s checking the fact of this statement, then shrugs. 

“Huh...”

“That’s it?” because Wade finds this highly amusing. 

“What do you want me to say?” Peter does chuckle, now. 

“I don’t fucking know ...area’s rich for jokes, innit?” 

“Yeah, but we both have the parts, so...” Peter shrugs again. 

“Alright, fine ...fine,” Wade grumbles and looks back at his phone. 

Peter wraps up whatever he is doing and sets his phone aside so he can turn off his lamp and flop down against his pillows.The only light left then is the glow of Wade’s cell. 

“I got another question...” 

“M’kay”

“If I hit myself and it hurts ...am I weak or am I strong? Whattcha think?” 

“Hmmm,” Peter shifts around in a rumple of sheets as he considers. “That’s a good one ... ...maybe don’t hit yourself?”

Fuck. Right. Of course Pete would veer away from self-harm.He knows some of the shit Wade’s tried in his life. 

“Ah, I didn’t mean it like that; just a thought experiment, ya know?”

“A thought experiment...”

“Yeah, I know what you nerdy fucks like”

That gets a laugh. 

“Fine.Got another one?” 

Wade has another mildly morbid one but has already taken note of the fact that Peter’s clearly not in that kind of mood. 

“I’ll keep you posted...”

Peter twists around some more under the blankets and moves closer to wrap an arm around Wade’s waist where he is still sitting up in bed.Because, as is par, Wade isn’t going to be ready to try sleep until he is more exhausted than he currently is.Still, he likes to be close to Peter, sleep or no. 

“Whattcha watching?” 

“Found some new fainting goat vids I haven't watched,” this shit just tickles Wade fucking pink. 

Peter snorts, too. 

“Wanna see?” Wade asks a little hopefully.

Peter presses his face into Wade’s side and shakes his head.Wade accepts that, carding his fingers through Peter’s shower-damp hair without further comment. 

Peter, as he is so wont to do, goes limp at Wade’s side within a few minutes, the lucky fucker.Wade knows he shouldn’t complain.Maybe if he hadn’t enticed Peter into fucking him on the couch earlier and if Peter hadn’t obliged _so thoroughly_ then he’d be a little more awake right now... 

_ Worth it.  _

Smirking, Wade glances down at sleepy Peter.He’s pretty sure he won’t get a second round at the moment ...and then again, ya never know. And he’s not much of a quitter. 

He’s out of new videos so he sets his phone aside and slides down the bed next to Peter, who hardly reacts. _Fuck_ but it’s hot that he can sleep through Wade’s presence ...which, ya now, wouldn’t normally be flattering except that Peter’s spidey-senses are a special case

“Pete,” he whispers and kisses his cheek, then down to his jaw. “Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater...”

“Stop that,” Peter hears him and then pulls his arms away from Wade, denying the cuddle in protest of this name. 

“That what you want?” he dares quietly, for his aim isn’t to startle or annoy . 

He takes Peter’s hand back, this time pushing it down his body to press over his crotch where he is half-hard. 

“Time’s it?” Peter doesn’t yank away, which is more or less an invite. 

“You haven’t been asleep long,” Wade promises and starts to rearrange the other man onto his back so he can kiss his way down his chest. 

“Kindda late,” Peter muses, though he’s settling onto his back happily and stroking a hand over Wade’s bald head. 

“Uh-uh....never too late for oral, hot stuff,” Wade chuckles and nips at one of Peter’s nipples. “You wanna get sucked-off first?” Wade offers. 

His eyes have already adjusted to the dark so he sees Peter shake his head before he cups the back of Wade’s head and pulls him in to a kiss. 

Which Wade is thoroughly distracted by because: duh. 

“Mmmm,” Wade does start to pull away but sinks back into Peter’s mouth for another deep kiss first. “Alright, alright ...you wanna cum and fall asleep, I get it.Lazy,” he teases but shimmies further up the bed anyway. 

Peter hums lightly in amusement at this but lets Wade move upwards and kneel to either side of his shoulders. Wade can see a blur of a grin on Peter’s face as he shuffles forward to press himself past Peter’s chin.He’s not completely hard yet, but licking helps ...and so does getting swallowed by a hot, wet mouth... 

“Fuck,” he braces himself on the wall above the headboard and rocks his hips forward. 

Slow, not rushed. 

Part of him might _want_ to thrust further and fuck the shit out of the tight mouth below him, but that’s not slow or sleepy or sweet.Of course, then Peter is clutching at Wade’s ass to urge him down, so if he gags a little then it’s his own fault, really... 

“Goddamn, Pete ... _fuck_...” he slaps at the wall when he comes down Peter’s throat.

Peter’s hands splay across his back to hold him there until Wade nudges at the man’s forehead and starts shuffling backwards. He hasn’t forgotten - _couldn’t possibly_ \- that it’s Peter’s turn next, but he sits himself on Peter’s stomach for a moment to exhale long and slow. Peter grunts at the weight and massages Wade's thighs before he squirms and starts to slide Wade back.Lower. 

“Oh, impatient ...I love it,” Wade smirks and shimmies back as instructed. “Gonna pull me down, boss?Make me gag for it?” he dares. 

“Huh? No,” Peter’s voice is a whisper, a little horse, but he lifts his head up to peek down.

“I’m kidding,” Wade licks at the ‘V‘ of Peter’s hips to hide a laugh. “Just relax...stay lazy...let Daddy Deadpool do all the work...” 

“You know I don’t like the daddy thing,” Peter complains at the ceiling, nearly whining. 

Wade doesn’t either, if he’s being honest, because it doesn’t dredge up any fun memories.Still, it makes Peter blush so it’s worth the occasional naughty joke.

“Some day you might be,” he goads and gets himself between Peter’s legs, which is a place he could just fucking live, by the way. 

“No, I’m --ssss,” he cuts off in an abrupt hiss when Wade pulls his hips up, shoves his legs back, and begins to lick not as balls but at his anus. “Shit...” 

It’s not uncharted territory but it’s something that feels illicit to Peter, anyway.Wade had last attempted this in the shower but had complained about the tiny inconvenience of inhaling water; there’s no risk of that now, however. 

“Wade...” Peter’s not sure why this feels overly exposed when they’re in a private, dark apartment and Wade has already touched every part of him anyway. 

Maybe he has some scruples to still work out?

“Wade...” 

The larger man hums, moves up to suck Peter’s sack, and then dives back down to the tight ring of muscles. Peters lets this carry on because despite the way he wants to blush and hide his face it feels _damn_ _good_. 

“Mmmm, Wade, please....” Peter pleads for something he’s not quite sure of; this was supposed to be lazy and simple, after all. 

It's hot, but also ...he doesn’t know.He can’t decide. 

“Yes,” he whispers to himself once he reaches his own hand down to cup his dick because it’s been a little neglected, which is not what Wade had promised, really.

Wade notices this, of course, and pushes Peter’s hand away.Peter is set to tell him off for it but Wade grabs him immediately. 

“Thank you,” he moans and melts to the sheets again. “Thank you...” 

Wade groans deeply to this praise, places a sucking kiss on Peter’s balls, and then gives his dick an almost-but-not-quite-too-tight squeeze. 

“Ahh-! Oh, shit...” Wade swallows him before Peter can complain about the rough move. 

And this ...this, he knows.This he fucking loves, no taboos about it. 

Peter’s rarely full of epithets like Wade, but as he lays back to bask in the pleasure he does mutter out some more praise, whisper another thanks or two. Because Wade feels good, draws him in and makes him forget all the other shit.Thought experiments, sex, jokes, fights ...it’s _Wade._

Wade’s not perfect, but he also sort of is.

“Mgh!” Peter curls upward, planting one hand on Wade’s head and propping himself up on the other elbow as he begins to tense. 

One of Wade’s hands shoots up to grab at Peter’s chest and shove him back onto the pillows.Hard. 

“Mmmm....” 

Right. He should relax. 

But it’s not easy when he’s this close.His body...

He’s...

“Fuck, Wade,” he finally snaps, squeezes his knees for a long moment around Wade’s shoulders, and then slumps back. 

Wade hums while he pulls off, which makes Peter give a last shudder. 

“Woowee....using big-boy words,” Wade smirks and nips at Peter’s inner thigh. 

Peter twitches, which Wade loves, and then pokes his forehead away from his groin. 

“Don’t be rude...” 

“I would never,” Wade plops a kiss on Peter’s pubic bone. 

“Mmm,” Peter trusts nothing about those words and curls a hand around Wade’s bicep to pull him away. 

Wade laughs, bites Peter’s adam’s apple, and falls to the side. 

“See?...wasn’t too late, right?” 

Peter nods and tucks a hand behind his head, satisfied.He doesn’t normally sleep on his back; he’s more of a curl-up sort. He doesn’t particularly want to move, though, so he thinks he can pull it off...

“Pete?” Wade’s quiet but he catches it. 

“Hmm?” 

“...never mind.” 

“Nn.S’matter?” he doesn’t open his eyes but his ears work just fine. 

“Nothing.I’m good...” 

Something in the back of Peter’s brain doesn’t believe that, but he’s so content he doesn’t really urge that feeling forward.With his unfettered hand he reaches blindly at Wade beside him.His hand find’s what he knows is a forearm; he gives it a squeeze and rubs his thumb over the dry, scarred skin. 

Wade is, in fact, not good.Peter’s mindless but warm touch does help, however, and he stares down at the shadowy hand until Peter’s fingers stop moving. He can already tell, without trying earnestly to sleep yet, that this bout of sexy time wasn’t enough to ease him off to dreamland with Pete.He’s sated in a way, sure, but not in the way sleep necessitates. 

Which is some frustrating shit.He wants to curl up with Peter, wants that to be enough to shut everything else up.He wants to use Peter as a pillow; hell, as a damn mattress - _Peter would let him_. 

But he can’t.He just lays there and watches Peter sleep, his chest rising and falling slowly, peacefully.It’s relaxing but it’s just not enough. 

He rolls out of bed before he gets well and truly pissed.Peter’s spidey-senses don’t mind his presence, but sometimes they pick up on turmoil and he doesn’t want to wake him up.That’s not fair.Then they’d just both be miserable. 

Good thing he’d already made a fucking back-up plan for the next time he was here and couldn’t sleep. 

Productivity, yo. 

Peter’s place is a little small, but he does have a closet by the front door where he keeps two jackets and some miscellaneous odds and ends.Things he can easily grab on the way out the door.Other items he just rarely needs but won’t get rid of. 

An old police scanner sits among them. 

Wade digs out a new spare suit and wiggles it on.He doesn’t know that he’ll need it.. but ya never know.Because it’s cold as Quebec out, he also tugs on his coat over his leathers, then wrangles the old radio from the top shelf.It’s already suited with batteries, because this is Peter Parker so of course it fucking is, so Wade scuttles straight to the roof with it. 

Peter, back before he had perfected how he wanted to go about patrols, had saved up his negligible teenage money to buy a police radio.He’d done some research - _nerd alert!_ \- to learn which codes correlated to which crimes, and then he’d swoop off to interrupt whatever had been called-in to dispatch and relayed over the system.It was rudimentary in comparison to his current, practice-refined methods of detection and tracking, but a nice start all the same, Wade has to admit. 

So Wade’s going to steal his idea and pop a squat so he can dial-in.He’ll look into anything that sounds devilish, whether homeboy’s mentioned by name or something in his general jurisdiction gets called-out. 

Reasonable, no?

It’s an actual method to put to his madness, which is nice. 

A few nights ago he’d managed to catch up to a Daredevil crime scene - _okay, maybe more like he’d stumbled across that one on his way home_ \- but mother fucker is fast, okay? 

Fuckin’ shit. 

* * *

  
Peter twitches on his bed, hand scraping over his softest and favorite blanket, which is folded atop his down comforter. 

He doesn’t move again for a few seconds. 

Then his whole body jerks, and he flies forward to sit up.His hands claw over his front at nothing but clammy skin, and his head whips around in the dark. 

“Wade...?” he gropes to the opposite side of the bed even though he can already tell that it’s unoccupied. 

Peter scrambles out of bed, tripping over his twisted covers, to flick on the corner lamp.His gaze sweeps an apartment he can already feel is empty just because he needs to. 

“Okay ...okay, it’s fine,” he reminds himself.“Fine...”

Because he _is_ fine. 

It was only a nightmare. 

And it’s not like Wade never slips away while Peter’s sleeping for a job or ...well, for whatever tickles him on a given night.It’s nothing to worry about. 

Still.

He eyes the rumpled bed and shuffles away from it and over to the bathroom.He relieves himself and then stares into the mirror.His face is a little drawn and his hair quite the mess, but he’s fine.No bruises, no actually leftovers of a fight. 

That had just been in his head.A figment of his memory come back to play, but a mere dream nonetheless. 

He rubs at his neck anyway and then turns on every light so he can sit in a bright living room and channel surf. Nothing good is on at 2:30am, of course, so he fires up the X-Box.He considers calling Wade to come join, but he figures that if the other man left it might be because he has something going on. 

Besides, he’s friggin’ fine. 

As per.

* * *

Wade does not _\- repeat: not_ \- catch the damn Devil. The way this fucking carries on is starting to feel impossible. Wade’s smarter than this. He gets paid for this kind of shit.

He’s pretty sure he made the mistake at the outset of his self-assigned mission by assuming the whole thing would be simple.He hadn’t taken proper precaution.Now Dare-Douche obviously knows something’s up, and Wade will probably have to go dark for a while to lull him out of heightened security. 

That’s some damn nooby bullshit. 

It’s kind of fucking embarrassing, actually.Good thing no one else knows about it. Well, DickDevil does, but who could he possibly be broadcasting it to? 

So it’s in a sullen mood that Wade creeps back down the fire escape at Peter’s building to sneak into the kitchen and replace the radio. He’ll probably try this method again; he hadn’t hit the ultimate jackpot but he had stopped a suspected assault before the cops arrived.That at least feels good; he’ll probably tell Peter about it when...

Wade freezes one floor up from Peter’s once he sees light flooding out past the boringly beige curtains.Frowning, he re-counts the landings he has passed just to make sure his caution is not for nothing. 

_Nope_. 

The fuck is Peter doing up at 4:00am? 

He keeps his steps light while he continues to descend, which is pretty impressive on the rickety stairs if he may say so himself - _and he fucking may_. When he gets to the landing, he squats to peer inside and assess the situation.In the slit between the curtains, he sees Peter’s head above the arm of the couch. 

There does not appear to be a disaster, so he peels the window up for himself to climbthrough. Peter snaps to attention and sits up, pinning Wade so fast with his hazel eyes that he freezes while he’s still half over the sink. 

“All good, baby boy?” he asks from his awkward perch.

“Uh-huh,” Peter slouches back down again. 

Wade continues his entrance and surveys the apartment.The place smells like popcorn, which is piled in a bowl on the coffee table along with chips and cookies in front of Peter.A junk-food smorgasbord, and Wade’s totally down for that any day. 

Hell, _all_ day.

“Little hungry?” he shuffles further inside. 

“Uh-huh.You want?” 

“Obvi ...” Wade snorts. “You do know it’s 4:00am, though, huh?” 

“Sure.Kind of hard to miss,” Peter looks up again.“I didn’t know you were coming back...”

He’s eyeing Deadpool-light up and down, eyes sticking on the radio in his clutches. 

“Oh, yeah...borrowed this bad boy,” he waves the device in the general direction of the closet where he had liberated it. 

“...everything okay?”

“Uh-huh.Broke a jealous ex-boyfriend’s nose; that was fun,” Wade recounts and plunks himself down on the open corner of the couch. “So what’s going on here?”

He eyes the frozen screen of the TV and deduces that Peter has been playing ‘Assassin’s Creed’.The irony of this is never lost on Wade but Peter hardly appreciates it so he doesn’t point it out tonight.

“Nothing really,” he shrugs. 

Evasive isn’t really Peter’s thing.It looks much more flattering on Wade. 

“Then how come you’re not sleeping the sleep of happy little spiders,” he scowls at the way Pete fidgets on the middle cushion. “What?” 

“I’m just awake,” the smaller man shrugs and hunkers back in to face the TV and click at his game controller. 

“Eh,” Wade snatches it, re-pauses the game because he’s a fucking bro, and shoves the controller under his cushion. 

“Hey!” 

“Deal with it.The fuck is wrong?What happened?” Wade’s on the lookout for red flags, and his eyes are fucking sharp.

“Nothing _happened_.I,” Pete sighs and rubs at his chest in a distressed way Wade has absolutely seen before, “had a bad dream.No biggy...” 

“Fuck,” Wade sighs deep and slow. “...sorry I took off...” 

Of all the fucking nights, right? _Right?_

“S’fine.You got to break a dude’s nose,” Peter guesses that this is far more important. “I’m fine...”

“You don’t look fucking fine,” Wade assesses in a way that might be too blunt, but, hey, that’s one of his brands. “You seem squirrelly...” 

Peter scowls and snatches up a cookie before thinking better of it.He’d learned via Aunt May to treat chocolate like a comfort food, and Wade has long since figured that out. 

Too late now.He takes a big ass bite. 

“The dream just ...felt really real...” he mutters around the goodness.

“Oh? Do tell?That’s never happened to me...” 

Peter shoots Wade a filthy look because _he_ doesn’t like to talk about his bullshit either.Why does he get to judge? Prod.Make a joke of it. It isn’t Wade’s business, so screw him, right?

Although, Peter supposes, Wade already knows. He had _been there_.Then again, Wade’s cagy and maybe needs a taste of his own medicine...

That seems like a pretty shitty thought.He rubs at his chest in agitation again, a tell of his stress that he hasn’t managed to control yet. 

“...about ...Doc Ock,” he confesses and immediately finds it actually feels good to say aloud. 

“Christ. Fuck that guy,” Wade scoffs but his tone is dark. 

Peter nods along and starts to rub absently at his throat, then drops his hand like the skin is scalding. 

Too late.Wade’s already seen. 

“Stop,” he swats away Wade’s hand when he reaches towards Peter, too. 

“Pete...” 

“Stop,” when Wade reaches again, Peter grabs the hand out of air to pull it down and pin it to the cushion. 

He’s a little disgusted with himself and tries to let go, but Wade squeezes his fingers to stay him. Peter looks at this and then away swiftly. 

He’s overreacting. 

Doc Ock...is nothing. 

He’s gone. 

Beyond that, he had not been Peter’s first near-death experience. 

And yet ...there had been something about it that’s never left Peter alone.Something specifically horrible about all of those arms and making the mistake of not tracking each one properly.About the way one metal, clamp-like hand had pinned him down by his throat while cement crackled around him.

It had been a slow sort of suffering that left plenty of time for panic while the mad doctor ranted and raved.Peter had fought, grappling with his legs and his unbroken hand, but he had been sure _\- downright positive_ \- that his windpipe was going to be crushed like an aluminum can. And he’d have to look into his killer’s eyes while it happened. 

Not an accident.No grand sacrifice while trying to rescue a child from a burning building or some other noble end that would fit the imagine of Spider-man.Just him and a murderer while he panicked and slowly faded away...

But Wade had come. 

And Peter had managed to walk away with just bruises and a broken wrist. 

Iron Man and War Machine had eventually roared onto the scene to finally incapacitate Octavius and cart him away.Tony had swiftly checked that Peter was whole, bitched unabashedly at Deadpool, and then raced off after Rhodey to make sure they got Doc Ock safely to SHIELD. 

It had all come down to Wade that day.Because Deadpool had stayed.Been there through the coughing, the dry heaving, and then thepanic once all of the adrenaline wore off.Peter had even ripped off his mask to vomit and suck down cool, calming air into his lungs. Dutifully, Wade had looked away, turned his back in order to let Peter keep his identity.

Which, incidentally, was the time and reason Peter decided he didn’t care about that anymore. 

And now they’re sitting here together and Peter doesn’t want to look at Wade, though it’s silly to have shame _now_ about the whole thing.Stupid enough that tears sting at the backs of his eyes. 

He blinks against that and scrubs at his nose. 

“I’m fine,” he slouches further because he’s feeling stubborn and is pretty sure that Wade’s obligated to understand that. 

“I know, baby boy,” the man at his side sighs and curls an arm around his shoulders.“Me, too...” 

That seems to say a mouthful but also does make Peter feel a little better. 

“Are you okay?” Peter checks quietly. 

“Yeah ...yeah, I am now. I am sorry I didn’t stick around tonight, though,” Wade adds before stretching to snatch the remote and make the executive decision that video game time is over. 

Peter considers his words and wonders whether he’d have been able to fall back asleep evenif Wade had still been in bed. 

He’s not sure. 

“S’okay.I’m glad you helped someone out there,” he is sure about that one. 

“Oh yeah, because you’re fine...” 

“Damn right,” Peter snags the chips off the table and then leans into Wade’s side harder when he sits back. 

“Gimme,” Wade makes grabby hands until he’s allowed to have the snack as well as the remote. 

Dick. 


	5. This fucking guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m good now, Pete...”
> 
> It doesn’t even sound like a good lie, which pisses Wade off a bit more. He’s a good liar, dammit; it’s a point of ride. And now Peter’s going to worry. He’s going to follow. He’s going to ask questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally had two shorter chapters here but reworked them into the one. 
> 
> I foresee only a couple more chapters to get to where I've decided this is going to go :]
> 
> Enjoy .

* * *

“Uh-uh,” Peter grumbles and bats away the elbow nudging at his side. 

He doesn’t often know too much in the middle of the night, but he does know he’s not ready to be awake. The room’s still dark and he has the distinct impression he hasn’t been asleep long. 

Certainly not long _enough_. 

So whatever Wade wants is just going to have to wait. 

He’d had a long night on patrol, so even if Wade is promising sex it’s going to have to be a “no.”He’s definitely going to have to shove off if he wants to go out and get late night pizza right now.And if he thinks it’s a good time to wake Peter up to show him a new Bad Lip-Reading of the Avengers latest sighting, well, that is hilarious but it can 100% wait until the morning. 

Then again...

Wade is usually gentle and enticing when he tries to wake Peter up. 

He doesn’t kick. 

Or shove. 

“What?” Peter groans and curls his legs up to himself once his shin gets a second kick. “Wade?”

He hears nothing and so pushes himself up on an elbow to squint around.But Wade’s not sitting up and smiling at him with some would-be-ingenious idea. 

Wade’s still laying down and, by appearances... still asleep?

“Mmphh,” Wade’s shadow twitches, nudging Peter again. “Hmmm...”

Frowning, Peter sits up fully and stares at the stirring man. 

A nightmare, he thinks _\- not unheard of_.Peter knows people say you’re not supposed to wake a person fro a nightmare but, like ...what else is he suppose to do?He knows how some of his own nightmares feel, and he would prefer to be woken up from them ASAP, _please and thank you_. 

That’s fine, right?

Wade would wake him up.Hell, Wade _has_ woken him up. 

“Kemp!...cut it out, Kemp...” 

Peter’s not sure who or what that is but does know that Wade sounds distinctly distressed. 

_Decision made._

“Wade,” Peter nudges him lightly. 

Nothing. 

“Hey...” 

Nada.

“Wade...” he squeezes the other man’s arm. 

Wade gasps and then, in a flurry of limbs, he is awake. 

“H--”

Peter is shocked when his Spidey senses flare to life down his spine, so he doesn’t react right away when Wade makes a move.His head only springs online once Wade is already on top of him. Swiftly, Peter flings his weight to the side so they both fall to the floor. 

He completely forgets about how close Wade always keeps a handgun in his own apartment until they are midair and he spots the gun somehow already fisted in the merc’s hand. 

“Wade!” he shouts before they both land on their sides and the air huffs from his lungs. 

Wade recovers first because he always does, and he is back atop Peter in a fraction of a second.His arm extends, and Peter, with his heart in his throat, grabs for the gun. 

He squeeze it. Twists his wrist. 

The weapon crunches in his hand and he spares one precious moment to hope it wasn’t Wade’s favorite.Then he draws his feet up and kicks Wade off of him. _Hard_. 

Once he flies off, Peter leaps across the bed to get closer to the window. 

He’s naked but he’ll sneak out the window if he needs to.It’s late so no one will see.Probably.Doesn’t matter. He doesn’t want to stay and fight Wade, not in this state.

His panting and Wade’s shuffling fills the room for a few moments. 

“... ...Pete?”

Wade sounds clear if slightly hoarse.

“Pete!” he grows more insistent. 

“I’m here,” the younger man answers and springs back across the bed again to scramble toward the door and hit the light switch. 

Peter blinks several times against the brightness but watches Wade’s eyes stay wide even against the invasion of light.He’s kneeling on the floor amongst the strewn clothes he hasn’t properly put away yet and stares around a little wildly from this vantage point. 

“Fuck...” he breathes. 

“Wade...”

He doesn’t react to his name but continues to glance around until his eyes fall on the mangled gun now sitting innocently by the wall. 

“Fuck!” he shouts this time and slams his fists down onto the bedroom floor. 

“I’m fine,” Peter promises, though actually seeing the gun in the harsh light makes his heart tick up a notch, too.“You’re fine.We--”

He cuts off, just a touch startled when Wade lurches to his feet. 

He stiffens. 

Peter knows he does it, though he hadn’t meant to.He’s not _scared_ , after all.Wade’s clearly himself, now.It’s just that adrenaline’s still flowing through him, and ... ...and, okay, he doesn’t have a great excuse. 

He regrets it because Wade notices it, of course.Freezes for a second. 

Then long strides carry him to the door and he shunts Peter aside. 

“Wade, what’re you-”

He grabs at Wade’s wrist, but it’s wrenched violently away. 

“He-”

Peter begins to follow but Wade cuts into the bathroom and slams the door behind him.It echos in the apartment and is then swiftly followed by the sound of retching. 

“Shit,” Peter sighs and scrubs a hand through his dark hair. 

He’s moved by the sounds of Wade upchucking whatever he’d eaten last night while Peter was out working, but he doesn’t go in.He _wants_ to but feels it’s somehow important to respect the sanctity of the closed door even if Wade hasn’t locked it.So, to ease his restlessness, he strolls back around the bedroom for his discarded underwear. 

Meanwhile, in the bathroom, Wade is freaking the fuck out. 

Because this is fucking real. 

It isn’t a nightmare.He isn’t being paranoid, and he isn’t overreacting ...much. 

He could have hurt Peter. _Would_ have.Nearly. Fucking. Did. 

_Hurt him. Hurt him. Hurt him._

Fuck.He could have killed him.He could be in his bedroom right now with Peter bleeding out under him. 

Okay so he is being a little catastrophic.He hadn’t done it, after all. 

He heaves into the toilet again, anyway.There’s not much left in his stomach, but bile slowly burns up his throat and he coughs it out. 

“Fucking ...fuck,” he punches the tile. “ _Fuck_ ,” he does it again just to grind his knuckles against the chilled floor. 

“Wade?” Peter sounds hesitant and his knock is soft. 

_‘Cuz he’s scared.’_ Wade berates himself, thinking of how the other man had drawn away. 

Wade knows it’s not even true.Peter’s faced worse, he tries to remind himself. 

_‘Worse than you?’_ a nasty little voice in his head doubt from the darkness that is lingering from his nightmare. 

“Cut it the fuck out,” he mutters to himself. 

Peter is _not_ scared of him. 

Probably. 

Almost definitely. 

Because, yes, worse than this. Peter has _actually_ been hurt in non-theoretical, not-almost ways.

“Wade?” Peter knocks again. 

If Peter was scared he wouldn't be knocking politely.He’d be kicking the door in or else getting the fuck out. 

That seems true. 

Certainly sensical. 

Wade shoves himself off of the floor and flushes the toilet to hide the evidence of his momentary weakness.Like he could possibly pretend he hadn’t made himself literally sick. 

“You alright?” Peter knocks a third time while Wade splashes some water on his face. 

“I’m good,” his voice sounds tired in his own ears. 

He feels tired.Deep down tired. 

“Okay...” 

And Peter’s out there fucking respecting his space and shit.If it were Peter in here, Wade would’ve already burst in.He’s never been the best with boundaries.That’s just not his forte, he crosses lines. 

He’s crossed a fucking line tonight. 

His stomach pitches a bit, but he doesn’t need to leap for the toilet again.He’s good.It’s alright. 

Well ...it’s _not_ fucking alright, but he’s at least got his head back on.

That’s good. 

Enough.

For now, anyway. 

Only because he can’t put if off forever  _-_ _there’s no windows in his damn bathroom to sneak out of, see_ \- Wade pulls the door open.Peter is slouched against the wall but straightens, looking surprised, when Wade emerges. 

“You should go back to bed, Pete...”

“Not likely”

_Great_. 

Wade swallows thickly. 

“You’re good?” he double-checks because he can’t fucking not. 

“Me?Yeah, of course,” Peter’s shrugging like it’s nothing, which is a damn lie.“Are you s--”

Wade doesn’t want to hear concern for _him_ , of all people.Not tonight.Not most days, really, but that’s neither here nor there. 

He whisks away from Peter, stomping for his bedroom to start gathering clothes.To wrap himself up in layers to fucking hide.Sounds nice.Sounds cozy. 

“Hey, c’mon...” Peter follows him because he’s Peter so: duh. 

Precious damn idiot.

“I’m good now, Pete...”

It doesn’t even sound like a good lie, which pisses Wade off a bit more.He’s a good liar, dammit; it’s a point of ride.And now Peter’s going to worry.He’s going to follow.He’s going to ask questions Wade still doesn’t want to wrap his head around.Because he’s let this go a little to long, now, maybe...

And he’s just not ready. 

Has gotten too good at hiding all his shit.Or, at least, at ignoring it.He supposes his cracks aren’t actually all that well hidden.Never really have been.He just knows how to distract people from them. 

Except Peter.No one else has been _this_ close to him in a while, now. 

“I gotta take a walk.Need some air...”

“Okay.I’ll come,” there’s no hesitation in Peter’s offer now. 

And that would be nice, wouldn’t it? 

Not a patrol but a nice walk.Something calm and relaxing.Maybe they’d chat.Maybe they’d just trudge along quietly.They’d probably find some greasy ass diner for shitty coffee and hash browns...maybe donuts. _Definitely fucking donuts._

He can picture it.Can imagine he’d feel content with the warmth of Peter at his elbow.That he’d enjoy how Peter would smile across that hypothetical diner table at him...

“No, I’m alright,” Wade decides, ever practiced in denying himself comfort. 

Because eventually _\- probably not right away because: tact_ \- Peter will ask.Will bring this to the forefront. 

“Wade...”

“I need to go calm down,” Wade bustles from the room now that he’s forced his limbs into some clothes. 

Peter has made the rookie mistake of just watching Wade with his sad eyes.Now he’s underdressed for the cold, and Wade can maybe slip out quickly before he dresses enough to follow. 

Real fucking brave, right? 

“Don’t do that,” Peter goes straight for the arm grab, wants to hinder instead of follow. 

Good strategy. 

Not happening, though, baby boy. 

Wade twists and punches Peter’s arm away.Probably mostly in surprise, Peter stumbles away and Wade sort of thinks he deserves to be struck with nausea again.Because who the fuck is he to be lashing out? Peter should be pissed, not him. 

For a second he sees the same thought flash in Peter’s eye.Sees the way his eyes narrow for a fraction of a second.Wade tenses for the coming brawl, imagines Peter wrestling him to the ground and forcing him to stay in the apartment. 

Would Wade ultimately appreciate that?Or would it enrage him? 

While he waffles back and forth indecisively, Peter relaxes his eyes and his shoulders. 

“Okay ...yeah...” he verbally accepts Wade’s bid for space even though he does look damn reluctant about it. 

“I’ll be back in a bit...” that lie sounds much steadier.

* * *

  
Peter is distracted on patrol the following night. He still hasn’t heard from Wade despite the older man’s assurances of being back in “a bit.” He realizes, now, that he should have seen the noncommittal nature of this comment for the lie that it was, but he’d overlooked it.

He blames the tiredness.

And wishful thinking. 

And a little guilt. 

He should just get better at friendly confrontation. 

So, anyhow, he’s distracted while he’s crawling up the brick facade of ‘The Daily Bugle.’One of his favorite haunts, it’s spacious and shadowy and has a nice view. 

And, tonight, there is someone already up there. 

Peter is over 3/4 of the way to the roof before he senses something’s off.Someone’s there. 

He freezes. 

Because it’s not Wade _\- he’d feel that or, rather,_ _not_ _feel it_. 

Peter tucks himself flush to the wall and listens hard.Sure enough there is quiet, subtle movement.The crunch and brief slide of shoes on the dirty roof. 

...but who? 

Who would wait for Peter on a roof?Besides Wade, that is.Who even knows where Peter likes to hang?That’s not information he just leaves laying around. 

Of course, it could have nothing to do with Spider-man at all. 

No, too much of a coincidence.

Hanging out on roofs is weird if you’re not Spider-man.Or Deadpool.Or Daredevil, perhaps. 

Could it be Daredevil?Kind of out of his self-imposed jurisdiction, but it could be...

If not, the list is pretty short. 

Possibly Hawkeye.

Maybe even Natasha?She gets up to shady shit.She’s lighter on her feet, though....

Could it be Cap? Unlikely.Steve calls, rarely just drops in unannounced.Tony, too.All of the Avengers, really.Clint and Natasha just happen to enjoy subterfuge and surprise. 

And, then, it could always be some villain laying it wait up there.

In that case, maybe the list _could_ be pretty long.Peter’s not specifically going head-to-head with anyone at the moment - _at least not so far as he knows_ \- but he’s friggin Spider-man and not everyone is a fan. 

Whatever the case may be, up he goes. 

Slower. 

More thoughtfully. 

But dutifully upward. 

Peter skitters around to the opposite corner of the building and slips up over the roof’s ledge.He’s more careful with his steps than this schmuck, so at least he has that. 

“Aw, hell...” Peter lets his shoulders go limp once he nears the hulking man near the ledge. 

Perfect. 

_Just_ perfect. 

Why is it Peter always runs into this guy on a bad night?Never when he’s dong something impressive ...because, no brag or anything, he does some cool shit. 

Somehow, _some_ way, he sees this guy when he’s tired.Or distracted.Or mid-pursuit.One time when he was already injured and limping. 

Granted, he half-hates Frank Castle anyway.Still, he’d like a little respect off The Punisher, yeah?He doesn’t know that Castle hates him, really, but he does hate Peter’s costume and scoffs at his politics and thinks all Masks are just a little ridiculous. 

And, like, everyone is entitled to an opinion, but Peter could bench press a semi on a _bad_ day.Does Castle know that?The Punisher definitely can’t do that; semis would crush his ass, Marine or no. 

Peter totally respects his service, though.Don’t get him wrong. 

He just constantly feels unnecessarily wrong-footed with this dude. 

Probably because he’s always internally debating whether or not he needs to detain Castle.Which he _could_ totally do, by the way.Obviously. 

Why doesn’t Castle get that?

“Aw hell’s right, Spider-boy,” Castle twists around quickly. 

The man’s face is neutral but he’d definitely twitched when Peter spoke.Small victory, but it still counts.

“Good to see you, too, Skull-boy,” Peter smoothly regurgitates a name Wade has previously used. 

It’s probably more effective coming off of Wade, who is actually taller than Castle.Peter’s slightly shorter stature possibly undermines the “boy” piece.Even so, he hopes it’s a bit of a slap in the face. 

“Where’s your goddamn shadow?” Castle is crossing his arms in front of his bulky coat and glaring around like a sentinel. 

For a wild second or two, Peter worries his literal shadow is somehow missing. That sounds kindda ludicrous, but Peter has met Dr. Strange and “trippy” doesn’t even begin to explain it all. 

In the next moment, he realizes Frank’s eyes are scanning the roof’s edges warily. 

“Deadpool?” 

“Who else?You got other freaky masked partners?” 

“...I’m pretty sure you already know the answer to that,” Peter smirks behind the mask and hopes against all hope that Frank can hear it in his voice. 

“Christ.C’mon, just where the hell is he?” Frank demands. 

Peter stiffens, immediately defensive.Then he reminds himself that he can easily throw this betrayed war hero off of the roof and lifts his chin defiantly. 

“Why?” 

Spider-man’s buggy eyes squeeze down to glare right back at the other man.Frank either wants to fight Wade or recruit him, and Peter won’t be allowing either to happen.Not right now.He usually tries not to meddle in Wade’s jobs if he’s not invited, but he’s making an executive decision on this one. 

If Wade’s disappointed ... _oops_. There might be a second chance for it.Some time.Like when Wade is a different (ie: _better_ ) head space. 

Not today. 

Probably not tomorrow, either. 

Actually, Frankie, the odds aren’t looking good for the rest of the week.Move on. 

“...what, are you his bodyguard?Or is _he_ yours?What’s the deal here?” one of Frank’s dark brows rises in confusion but he looks no less upset. 

Oh, and wouldn’t Castle just love to know that? 

“No one can kill Deadpool, and I could throw you across the East River.Which one of us looks like we need a bodyguard?”Peter cocks his head, genuinely curious to know. 

Because he’s calling bullshit.He’s happily calling a whole heap of bullshit. 

The Punisher is bold, that has always been true.But Peter’s smelling false bravado.The man’s angry tonight, he thinks.Well, angrier than usual.

Perhaps that should be a little frightening, but it somehow bolsters Peter a bit instead.

“...maybe you just mind his day planner, then,” Frank tries again while he continues to studySpider-man. 

“You, uh... caught the bit about the East River, right?Because I’m pretty sure I can make it from here... ...don’t stalk me again,” Peter turns his back on The Punisher to head back to the ledge.“It’s pretty creepy.” 

“C’mon, just give me a hint!” Frank calls after Peter just as his toes reach the roof’s lip. 

Stubborn dick.

“Leave it alone...” Peter tosses back over his shoulder. 

He doubts Castle will listen to that.He’s going to have to keep an eye out for the guy, but what’s one more item on his plate at this point? 

“Can you at least get him a message?” he continues when Peter’s knees bend to make the jump.

Hmmm ... _juicier_. 

Peter straightens back up and turns to consider this new offering. 

“...sure.I’ll bite.” 

He may or may not pass the information along right away, but he promises himself he’ll do it eventually.Devious?Sure.Outright wrong? He thinks not. 

“...spider bite?” it seems Frank can’t help himself but to scoff any chance he gets. 

And what if Peter decides to teach Frank not to joke about how he can fight, huh?How would that be, huh? 

“Did you have something to say or not? Because I’ve got things to do ...a drug dealer to check in on, peepers to scare off, and there’s always someone trying to rob someone else...” Peter rambles because he’s good at that even when he’s half-uncomfortable. “It’s rude, but it’s life, yeah?” 

“...do you know what your buddy’s been doin’ in his spare time?” Frank demands, ignoring Peter’s nothingness. 

“That’s a question, not a message,” Peter’s voice lilts as he takes another step back. 

Because no he does not know. To hell if he’s admitting it, though. 

Frank, it seems, doesn’t want to give anything he’s got unless he’s in immanent danger of losing his only lead. 

Luckily for Peter, he can dangle on a ledge all night long. 

“Would ya just tell him to back off?” 

Peter’s head tilts again in thought.Could it actually be Wade who’s trying to root out Frank, not the other way around? A curious turn but certainly not impossible to believe.

“He’s hassling you?” Peter can’t exactly say he’s sad to hear that given how shitty Frank is being right now. 

“Just tell him to back off.He’ll know what I mean.” 

Interesting.Also ominous. 

‘ _What’re you up to, Wade?’_ Peter frowns to himself.

“... ...no,”Peter decides with a happy chirp. 

“The fuck not?” 

“Give me more information and maybe I’ll change my mind,” Peter bargains. 

Frank emits something like a growl while he stares Peter down.He doesn’t like lip off of Spider-boy, that much is clear. 

“Fuck it,” he elects after some mysterious amount of mental math. “He’s raising hell with Red, who hunted _me_ down to give _me_ shit.” 

That sounds like Greek to Peter until he remembers Frank and his previous bitching about “Fucking Red” and his “damn pajamas.” 

“Daredevil?” Peter realizes, though it sounds even stranger than Wade hassling Frank. 

The Punisher and Deadpool at least have something in common.Peter wouldn’t be shocked if Wade wanted to team-up for a job, nor would he think it strange if Wade tried to heckle Castle just to piss him off.For funsies, you might say. 

But Daredevil? Peter supposes Wade may very well want to fight him.Again, just as an experiment.Maybe for an interesting story to tell .He’s not sure what else Wade could want with the man.Daredevil is vey strict and, in Peter’s experience, doesn’t share Wade’s sense of humor. 

What would Wade want to team-up with him for that he couldn’t get _\- and better_ \- from Peter? 

And that is certainly a new feeling ...professional jealousy?Peter will undoubtedly have to examine his pettiness at some point. 

“Who else?” Frank snorts.“He thought that I put Deadpool on his tail or some shit, like I’m not over that fight.Like I’d need to take a contract out even if I did want to rain hell on him and his stupid devil horns...”

He’s shaking his head now.Exasperated with the suits and the masks and just all of the bullshit. 

“He’s hunting the devil of Hell’s Kitchen....” so at least Peter knows now. 

“Banging all around the place raisin’ hell, I guess.Snooping and poking around crime scenes...” 

“Is he hurting anyone?” 

Frank clicks his teeth shut, and a muscle works in his jaw. Clenching and unclenching repeatedly.If he’s the one on the defensive, now, then Peter’s just pleased as pie. 

“No.Just being a fuckin’ nuisance, I guess...” he finally admits, and he sounds like it pains him, like he knows this might not be motivation enough for Peter.

“It’s nice of you to help clean that up for your friend,” Peter flashes Castle some finger guns because he can be a little bit of a shit, too. 

“Fuck you,” he rolls his dark eyes high, though Peter is pretty sure there’s a small quirk in the corner of the man’s mouth.“I just want him off my case.I wanna be left the hell alone.I dunno why Red can’t quite get that...” 

But it’s not like Frank will kill Red even if the guy keeps hounding Frank for weeks, right?Daredevil doesn’t fall on the end of the spectrum where Frank points his guns. 

Because even though Peter’s not entirely comfortable with Frank’s philosophies, he is pretty sure he at least has them figured out. 

“Mmhmm...” Peter doesn’t quite sympathize only because he’s not sure if Frank should be left to his own devices at all; maybe he deserves a little pestering from an angel on his shoulder. 

Or Daredevil on his shoulder, as the case may be. 

“So you can put a leash on your boy, or what?” the Punisher finally huffs.

“Like he’s a dog?” Peter scowls, though he knows he shouldn’t get offended or give anything away. 

Wade’s not a dirty little secret but he’s also not any of Frank’s business.People who know and care to really look - _aka: Natasha Romanov, for certain_ \- see what Peter and Wade’s relationship is, but Frank is not one of theirs.He’s not in the know and they don’t owe him any answers about who cares for who and who has whose back. 

“...I’ll look into it,” Peter adds just so everyone’s wrapping up on the same page. 

Then he does a black-flip off of his third favorite rooftop to escape Castle’s mean-mugging and go have a think. 

It's been quite the day.

Still, Peter does finish patrolling that night.Admittedly it’s a bit quick, but he hits all the usual places; really, he does. 

Then he goes straight to Wade’s and lets himself into the apartment.The merc still isn’t there but it’s not a B&E.Peter has a key.He feels a little squirrelly despite this... because he’s about to snoop. 

He hasn’t forgotten that yellow folder Wade has used to haphazardly hide a bunch of papers and mysterious information in his kitchen a few weeks ago.Peter hadn’t nagged or stolen a peek because he wanted to respect Wade’s space.He _still_ does, of course, but he also feels he needs to know.Wade is stirring up The Punisher and Daredevil, so Peter thinks it’s time to just ...get himself into the loop. 

He’s not sure if he feels shitty about that. 

He’s really just feeling protective.He wants to save Wade from anything that is haunting his dreams.Wants to guard him from whatever wrath Castle might be thinking about raining down.Not because he _needs_ a bodyguard, just like he’d told Castle.But _still_.It’s the principle of the thing, really. 

So yes, he’s snooping.He’s going to feel some shame if Wade gets offended, but he’s snooping anyway. 

It’s not hard.Peter has been in and out of Wade’s place so much that he already knows where the folder  _isn’t_ . He checks Wade’s beside table, and there are some interesting things in there... but nothing he’s currently looking for. 

Then he lets himself into the second bedroom where Wade keeps guns, other weapons, suits, surveillance equipment, etc.It’s a hodgepodge of his mercenary life.The rubber bullets make Peter grin, but his eyes are scouring for something else...

He finds the tattered folder he seeks on top of a squat safe, and he does second guess himself before grabbing it. 

But he _needs_ to know, now.Frankly, he should be getting a pat on the back for holding out this long.Wade has been flighty a little more often lately, which warrants a little research.Maybe Peter is a dick for not doing this sooner, actually.

He realizes that’s some pretty handy self-justification, but he lets it comfort him anyhow.

He shuffles out to the kitchen with the folder and slaps it down on the counter.Once he tosses his mask off, he then rifles through the fridge and grabs a beer so he can relax a bit and get through whatever this is.

It’s thorough is what it is. 

Which isn’t a surprise given Wade’s tenacity. Peter has already seen him hunker in and tunnel-vision onto a mark, so he knows.It’s impressive and honestly a little disconcerting when he gets that way, all that energy gone still in brutal focus. 

This, though.It somehow doesn’t feel dark, if a little obsessive.Probably because Wade has included chibi-style doodles of himself chasing Daredevil around the city.Peter imagines him doing so in fits of frustration to take a quick mental breather. Yet it's not violent or - _he rethinks that assessment when he spots a doodle of Deadpool kicking Daredevil in the nads_ \- it’s not murdery. 

He has to smile a little. 

On the kitchen island, Peter unfolds a street map of NYC that Wade has printed in sections and reassembled.On it, Wade marked and numbered several spaces around Manhattan.Peter quickly finds the numbers are associated with news articles chronicling Daredevil’s movements, which Wade is using to make a map of the vigilante’s comfort zone.The stories strayed along the Hudson sometimes but generally stuck to his favored neighborhood.There’s also asterisks dotted here and there and a couple other symbols Peter can’t decipher without whatever key is in Wade’s own head. 

Peter browses the articles, most of which recount crime scenes police had spotted The Devil at.Other print-offs are from commenters and would-be web sleuths who claim to have seen or interacted with Daredevil.Some of the latter had been crossed-off but a few are, in fact, numbered. 

It is pretty masterful. It’s odd, though, too. Benign to Peter’s judgment, but even that’s confusing.What does Wade want? 

Peter lines up all of Wade’s doodles next.Only a few of these depict any form of physical attack, though there is a lot of profanity and apparent yelling. Peter decides this is, in fact, harmless. In his unprofessional artistic analysis, there are no weapons and no blood so it can’t be _all bad_.

Does Wade just want to team-up? Maybe make a new friend?

He had thought he was going to find the reasons for Wade's restlessness, but he is pretty sure he has found a result instead. 

Probably?

He’s okay with this. That’s all he knows for certain.

So he hunkers in for Wade’s eventual return.The mercenary has to come back some time, and Peter’s pretty sure there’s enough food in the man’s apartment to allow him a pretty lengthy sit-in to wait. 

**Author's Note:**

> I've got a plan; not sure how long it will be yet...


End file.
